


Roahkkavuohta

by afterandalasia



Category: Frozen (2013), Wreck-It Ralph (2012)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Human, Arendelle (Disney), Community: disney_kink, Corona (Disney), Crossover Pairings, Elsa Has Ice Powers, F/F, Lesbian Elsa, Minor Character Death, Politics, Post-Canon, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamora Calhoun walks like a man, talks like a man and walks into Arendelle’s Guard like she was born to lead them. But when things go wrong while Elsa is travelling, Calhoun might just be the only one who can save them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roahkkavuohta

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashleybenlove](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ashleybenlove).



> Written for the Disney Kink prompt: "Tamora Calhoun/Elsa. Something shipping these two ladies. Human AU for Wreck-It Ralph preferred."
> 
> I accidentally plot, but it turned out to be a hella lot of fun to write this fic, and the pairing seemed quite determined to make itself work. Arcadia is actually a real place, but I wasn’t meaning to refer to part of Greece. I’m just not as clever with country names as I think I am. Roahkkavuohta is Sami for courage or bravery.
> 
> I have this headcanon that Calhoun is left-handed; in the Nesquik Sand with Felix she seems to be using her left hand to hit him.

It rapidly became clear that, with the gates opened and both Queen and Princess part of the world again, the staff of servants currently working at the palace was insufficient. Elsa had arrangements made for good quarters and wages, and let the word be sent out. Slowly, the staff grew, and the Guard with them -- they, too, had been cut down to a minimum while the palace was closed-off.

Elsa was taking audiences when Calhoun walked into her life. She did not notice the figure among the crowds in the square -- people tended to gather, as if to reassure themselves that their Queen had not vanished again -- until they stepped forward, strode boldly towards Elsa, but then stopped and dropped to one knee at her feet.

"Your Majesty," the woman said simply, head bowed.

For a moment, Elsa was speechless. She raised a hand to hold back her own guards, then gestured with her other. "Arise," she replied.

The woman lifted her head, then stood. She was tall, with blonde hair cropped as short as a man's save for the bangs that swept her forehead, and her grey-blue eyes seemed to burn out of her face. More astounding, though, she wore a man's clothes: black trousers and boots, a black shirt with a deep red leather jerkin over it, a sword at one hip and a crossbow on her back. She stood confidently, but with tension in her form, as if she was still ready for fight or flight at any moment.

"What is your name?" said Elsa.

"I am Tamora Calhoun of Arcadia," she replied, words bold. Her hand rested near the hilt of her sword, and Elsa felt a twinge of unease, but there was nothing about her behaviour which suggested aggression. "I come to seek a place in your Guard."

Elsa had been shocked to learn that, in many kingdoms, a princess would be passed over in the line of succession if there was a male heir to be found. That women were property in some lands, not considered the equals of men. She had spent a fair time checking the last parts of Arendelle law for such differences. Despite that, there were no women in the small Guard-Army of Arendelle; it was an unwritten rule, but one which people seemed to cling to nonetheless.

Aware of eyes on her, Elsa held tightly to her calm. "Do you have experience?"

"I served in the Guard of Queen Vanellope during the war with the usurper King Candy," Calhoun replied, and whispers ran round the courtyard. Elsa tried not to look away and look for peoples' reactions. They had heard of the Arcadian Civil War even here. "If you ask after Sergeant Calhoun, you will find my record exemplary."

"And now you wish to serve here. You understand you may not be reinstated as Sergeant." It was not really a question as it left Elsa's lips, but Calhoun nodded all the same. Taking a step back, Elsa nodded to the captain of her Guard. "Speak to Captain Rute, if you would. We have several new recruits being tested at this time."

Her heart pounded in her chest as Calhoun gave her an unreadable smile: sweet and bitter at once, and not reaching her eyes. Calhoun bowed again, backed away three paces, before turning and making her way back to the crowd. Elsa took a deep breath, raised her chin, and prepared to talk to the next questioner.

 

 

"There is nothing in the laws of the land or the army that say a woman cannot join," said Captain Rute later, as the sky darkened and Elsa was finally able (finally forced) to return to some sort of privacy. "We just do not see many requests, and those who do, do not outlast training."

Elsa nodded. "But she already has some. I do not know much of Arcadia, but I know that the army of Queen Vanellope were a formidable force during the Civil War. I would only question why she has come here."

Rute, an older man with a monumental moustache, had been in the Guard since Elsa was a child. He was one of the handful who had always known about her powers, and she trusted him greatly. Now he sat beside her at the otherwise empty table in the Great Hall and spoke to her respectfully but as something close to equals. "Perhaps it was the Civil War itself which drove her out."

"Yes," said Elsa, more quietly. "I can imagine someone would want to leave after that."

For a moment she looked away, into the flickering fire that gave warmth to the room. The nights were getting longer now, heading into the deep long darks of the winter.

"If she gets through the training," Rute said, "I see no reason she can't take up the sword. And if you'll pardon my saying so, it might be good to have women among the Guard. A personal retinue for you or your sister."

"Propriety." Elsa couldn't help a little smirk at the word. It was a word so full of _expectations_ , and she had long ago learnt to consider those critically. "However, I do see your point. We shall wait, and see how she does."

 

 

Training and testing were wrapped up together when it came to the Arendelle Guard. Any recruit who could not learn fast enough how to wield a sword or crossbow, or to cope with the ice and steep mountains, would be denied their place.

A few days in, Elsa found an excuse to walk through the courtyard as the recruits were practicing their sword-work. Her eyes easily found Calhoun, more from her sharp hair and sharper movements than anything else, and she paused for a moment. Calhoun had been paired with a bear of a man, tall and broad, who held the sword well. But Calhoun was quicker, deflecting and darting out from under his blows, and she disarmed him with a yell before knocking him wholly to the ground.

Then she smiled, leant on her sword, and cocked her hip. "Is that all that you ladies got?"

Elsa turned away to hide both the smile and the blush in her cheeks, and hurried back into the castle.

 

 

"She's the best of the recruits," said Captain Rute simply. "There's no denying that she knows what she's doing."

Anna, who had been watching with some interest what would happen with their foreign guest, gave a cry of delight and threw her arms around Elsa. Elsa returned the embrace, and did not admit what her smile was for.

"Then yes," said Elsa, a little muffled by Anna's hair. "We will have our first female Guard."

 

 

By the time that the summer was out, Calhoun had proven herself well enough to be promoted to Corporal, and was regularly in command of the day units that accompanied Elsa or Anna when required. Though Elsa did not speak to her much, she often found herself smiling as Calhoun barked out her orders, confidence dripping from her every word.

It was Calhoun that she chose to lead the group who would accompany her south to trade negotiations with Corona. Although Corona and Arendelle had been on friendly terms for over a century, the last decade had been hard on the rulers of both and communication had broken down. The presence of the Princess of Corona at the coronation had been supposed to be the start of reconciliation. Of course, that had not gone too well.

"I still want to come with you," said Anna, as the horses were readied in the courtyard. Elsa turned to her and smiled.

"I wish you could, too. But I need you to stay here and look after the kingdom for me. Make sure that Sven doesn't eat us out of carrots, that sort of thing." Anna laughed, and Elsa hugged her once again. "I'll hurry back, don't worry. And it's not that far."

"All right," said Calhoun, somewhere behind them, "saddle up, boys. That road ain't gonna ride itself, and if I hear anyone complaining that their tush is sore they're gonna get a boot to ensure it is."

"Sounds like it's going to be interesting," said Anna.

"Captain Rute says that she made one of the recruits cry," said Elsa, raising her brows. Anna laughed. "But she's good. I'll be back before you know it."

Before they could keep talking and she wound up never leaving at all, Elsa pulled herself away and went to mount her own horse. The trip by land was longer than by sea, but she could not bring herself to sail for her first trip outside of the Kingdom. That could wait for a few uneventful trips to settle her nerves. Hopefully Calhoun's sharp tongue would be the most interesting part of the trip.

 

 

They made good time, first a couple of days' east and then turning south along the sea that separated them from Corona. Although much of the land was claimed in the name of Arendelle, it was sparsely populated and the people pretty much governed themselves, with local lagmen sorting out small issues and deciding if there were larger ones worthy of being taken to the crown. They still considered themselves Arendellen, though, and as the snow fell away so did the people.

It took less than a month for them reach the borders of Corona, the Małreza River, and pass over the great bridge that spanned it. The Coronan Army send fast riders ahead to announce that the Arendelle party had arrived, but a local lord offered his home for the night and Elsa gratefully accepted.

Calhoun, as the only other woman, had been sharing Elsa's room when they stayed with the local lagmen or Elsa raised ice huts to shelter them when there was no-one nearby. 

"You don't need to sleep in here tonight," said Elsa, as Calhoun followed her into her room again. "Lord Bilas has offered his guards for my door. You could have your own room."

She had not said that it was strange to share her room with someone again, so used to she was sleeping alone since she had left Anna's room all those years ago. She still wore gloves in the night, just in case, but slept more soundly when she could hear Calhoun's steady breathing at the foot of her bed.

"I promised to protect you on this journey," said Calhoun. Her eyes were scanning the room, resting longest on the windows, then with long strides she started to look around it, in cupboards and behind screens. "I'm doing nothing more than what I said I would."

Elsa smiled, crossing to raised the covers of the bed slightly, then felt her expression slip to a frown. "There's no servant's cot," she said. Did they not have them in Corona? Those were not the sort of things which were taught to a princess.

"I've slept on floors before." Calhoun was examining the windows now, testing the locks and rapping on the frames. She opened one and leant out to look down at the ground, perhaps thirty feet below. "No trees nearby. Good."

"No, I can't make you do that," Elsa waved the comment away without even considering it. The floor may have been wood, not stone, but it would not be comfortable and if Calhoun was even half as travel-sore as she, it would be highly unpleasant. "The bed is more than wide enough, and I have no need of blankets anyway. I don't feel the cold."

Calhoun hesitated for a moment, brows furrowing, but Elsa wasn't sure what the emotion behind it was. "All right then, Your Majesty," she said finally, inclining her head.

For some reason, the title stung. It was not as if Elsa was unused to being called 'Your Majesty' any more, or even that Calhoun never used the title, but she rarely did so unless the situation absolutely called for it. In public, in front of Captain Rute, on formal occasions. The same went for bowing, dipping her head, and other gestures of the sort.

There was a knock at the open door behind them, and Elsa turned to see one of the servants of Lord Bilas, a young woman dressed in severe clothing and with her eyes turned down.

"The Lord asks if Her Majesty would be kind enough to join him at dinner," the young woman said.

"Please inform him that I would be honoured to do so," replied Elsa, and the woman dipped a curtsey and hurried away. She looked to Calhoun again, who was now looking under the bed and shaking the coverlets. "Would you accompany me, please?"

"Of course," Calhoun replied, without the title this time, and Elsa felt herself relax just a little. Perhaps this evening would not be so tense after all.

 

 

Lord Bilas did not prove to be the most entertaining of dinner companions, but Elsa was able to keep up conversation with him, sturdily ignoring the fact that he had two bodyguards at his shoulders and she had Calhoun standing behind hers. He wished her a pleasant night as she departed, and she returned the sentiment, before retiring to her room ready to fall asleep in an instant.

She readied for bed, climbed into the side in which the warming pan had not been, and rolled so that her back was to Calhoun. She heard the woman lay aside her weapons and strip to her shift, but then there was silence, and Elsa pressed her lips into a firm line as she rolled over and sat up.

"There's no danger, you know." Though she did not need her hands to use her powers, they were the point from which the magic was most likely to leak unwanted. Simple black gloves covered her to the elbow.

Calhoun looked up. Without her armour, she looked more vulnerable, though not necessarily any more or less feminine. Her gaze was troubled, and Elsa felt her anger fade.

"It's for one night," she continued. "That's all."

With slow movements, Calhoun climbed into the bed, beneath rather more layers of blankets, and held them to her chest for a moment while still sitting there. Elsa lay down, and rolled back onto her side again.

"Goodnight, Queen Elsa," said Calhoun. Her voice was low, and Elsa would have looked round if it would not have revealed the uncertainty on her own features.

"Goodnight, Calhoun."

 

 

"Elsa!"

Someone grabbed her by the shoulder and shook. Elsa tumbled awake, a cry on her lips and frost spreading on her skin when she blinked again and saw that it was Calhoun. The woman was wearing her jerkin and had her sword in her other hand, and her eyes were fighting-bright.

"What-"

"Weselton men," said Calhoun. She looked back to the door again and Elsa, following her gaze, saw by the dim light of the dying fire that a chest had been dragged across it. There was a thud, and the door tried to jump open. "We have to go!"

Elsa stumbled upright, even as Calhoun was striding across to the window. "The others--"

"Drunk on wine, with or without slit throats." Calhoun threw the window open and looked out to the ground below. "We should be able to make the drop. Hold on to the windowsill, and--"

Elsa joined her at the window and, in a gesture of her hand, heavy snow began to fall in a small patch just outside. Within moments it had built into a mound over a foot deep, and continued to grow. "It'll be soft," she promised.

"Huh." For a moment, Calhoun looked impressed, then there was a bang on the door again. "Well, that'll help. Come on, then."

Without further warning, she threw an arm around Elsa's waist; Elsa gave a yelp, but managed not to pull free or lash out with her powers. Just as Calhoun climbed onto the sill, Elsa threw one last blast of ice at the door, freezing it shut as well as barricading it. Then Calhoun pushed off, and for one dizzying moment they were in the air, falling, not-quite-flying, until they hit the snow with a thud no harder than falling into bed.

Calhoun was on her feet in an instant, pulling Elsa up. How she had managed to pull back on her shirt, pants and boots, Elsa did not know, but her weapons were about her as well.

"The horses," said Elsa, and Calhoun just nodded and grabbed her left hand as they ran in the direction of the stables. Light was appearing in the windows of the mansion, and there was the crack of a crossbow being fired as Elsa let the snow vanish from behind them.

They reached the corner and were about to head for the stables, but Calhoun snapped to a halt and pulled Elsa tightly up against her. Men in Weselton armour were at the stables, and as Elsa watched with wide eyes they led her horse out, a light bridle round its neck, and pulled it into the centre of the courtyard. One of the men stepped up, pulled out a pistol and pointed it at--

Calhoun turned her away, but Elsa heard the shot and jolted violently, knowing what had happened all the same. Frost prickled over her fingertips, not just with fear but with _anger_ , that these men had come after her soldiers, her people.

"Come on," said Calhoun. She pulled Elsa back around the corner, tugging on her arm to get her attention. "We have to go, Elsa."

Her name pulled her back. Elsa blinked, took a deep breath, and started to run.

 

 

Once they were out of sight of the mansion, and could no longer hear the shouting or the sound of pistols, they slowed and found a group of trees to hide beneath. The moon was almost full, and gave enough light for them to see by even off the road.

"I should have seen this coming," Calhoun growled. She turned and slammed a fist against one of the trees, and Elsa flinched at the sound. "I should have kept a better eye on my men."

Elsa reached out and pulled Calhoun's fist away from the tree, shocked to see blood on her knuckles. Letting her hand become cold, she laid it across the injury, even though the soldier refused to look round. "And perhaps I should have refused to stay in Lord Bilas's house. We cannot change what has happened. But Corporal," she said more firmly, and Calhoun finally looked round. "You saved me. For which I thank you."

Pulling her hand back again, Calhoun turned to look towards the sea not all that far to the north. "It's my job. Now come on, let's get moving before the cold gets to us."

It was not that chill by night, but Elsa could feel the sweat on her brow and knew that Calhoun would start feeling the cold far more quickly than she. They were north of the Corona Road, which swept from the Great Małreza Bridge to the Capitol of Corona itself, and which Lord Bilas's house was within an hour's travel of. There was no bridging downstream of the Great Bridge, and the river cut down into an ever-wider and ever-deeper gorge that no engineering or magic yet had been able to safely span.

“I wasn’t aware of a longstanding feud with Weselton,” said Calhoun, as the forest thinned a little and they neared the northern shores of Corona, the great limestone cliffs that dropped sharply away to the last few miles before the sea. “Last I heard, you were trading partners. What happened to make the Duke turn sour?”

Elsa allowed herself to be helped over a small fissure that had opened up in the ground. “We were trading partners, up until just under a year ago. You’ve heard the story of my coronation and... everything that took place.” The words were still a little uncomfortable to say, but Calhoun just made a vague noise of agreement and kept walking. “The Duke of Weselton, for his part, tried to have me killed by his men. It could not be proved enough to have warranted war, even if I had wanted that, but we knew it had happened. We cut all trade. It’s one of the reasons that I’ve been negotiating with other Kingdoms over these past months.”

“And the Duke doesn’t take kindly to being left out.”

“Even during my parents reign, Arendelle became increasingly isolated. Most of our trade went through Weselton – which meant that they had come to rely on income from us.” Elsa could see the moment that Calhoun caught on, nodding slowly. “And rumours of his behaviour have spread, even if they can’t be proven. Nobody really wants to do business with someone who they think might want to have them killed.”

“Seems counter-productive, though,” said Calhoun, reaching up to wipe one hand across her forehead.

Elsa wrapped her arms around herself. “Sadly, that doesn’t seem to stop him.”

The sky was beginning to lighten by the time that they came within sight of the great river gorge. Unlike many rivers, the Małreza did not have a wide floodplain, continuing to the sea almost as if it was still in its upper reaches. Elsa had created snow in their hands to slake their thirst, but it was tiring, and without the fight-or-flight burn she could feel herself beginning to weaken.

The lights of the bridge were visible to their far right, very faint outlines in the darkness. “Do you think that it’s safe?” said Elsa, as they paused for a moment to survey what distance they had left.

“I’m not sure,” Calhoun replied grimly, which was not particularly the answer that she had wanted to hear. 

Keeping to the edge of the trees, out of the clearing that ran along the edge of the gorge, they made their way towards the bridge, but stopped as two men in Weselton armour came out of the guardhouse at the edge, torches in hand illuminating their colours clearly.

Calhoun frowned. “Apparently not. Do you have any allies west of the bridge?”

“After what’s happened, I wouldn’t be sure until it came to the Capital.” Elsa half-expected Calhoun to give her an unimpressed look, but the soldier just nodded instead. After Lord Bilas, she must have been in the mood for precautions as well. “But the Eiken family hold lands within a couple of hours’ travel. One side is Arendellen, the other Bheltjian. I would trust them with my life.”

The words were not ones that Elsa spoke lightly, common phrase though they might have been. By an ancient treaty, the coastline just west of the Małreza was considered the land of both Arendelle and Bheltjia, mostly self-governing and not strictly subject to the laws of either. It was Bheltjia’s only coastline, and Arendelle had more than enough of that but had wanted to retain a border with their old ally Corona. The Eiken family had held it for generations, marrying into families of both lands to keep their ties strong. But the only time that there had been a clash between the two countries, the Eikens had sided with Arendelle, and Lady Eiken had been at Elsa’s coronation.

“The Eiken family it is, then,” said Calhoun. She shifted her weight slightly, then drew her sword in a soundless sweep. “I will move to the south side of the bridge and distract them. You run through, get one of their horses, and-”

Elsa laid one hand on her shoulder, and Calhoun looked round sharply. “No, let me. Stay close.”

She slipped her hand down and into Calhoun’s, left into right, and with her right hand began to draw a slow helix. The temperature of the air dropped around them, until Calhoun’s breath formed white puffs and her fingers tightened sharply. The air began to roar around them. Elsa reached deeper, opening the doors to her magic as snow began to fall, specks at first but quickly becoming thick white flakes like tufts of cotton in the air. Soon it was so thick that Elsa could barely see Calhoun beside her, but she could _feel_ the snow as it covered the landscape.

“Come on!” she shouted, though she wasn’t sure whether the other woman could hear her or not. But when Elsa pulled, she followed, straight out towards the edge of the river. Even in the thick of the blizzard, with the snow falling Elsa was sure of every step, and without hesitation ran straight out over the edge.

Ice flowed out from each of her steps; not a wide bridge, and not one that would hold for long, but enough for her and Calhoun to pass over the giddying chasm beneath them. Blue ice shot in stars into a tongue six feet wide and only inches deep, already crumbling away from one bank as they reached the other.

She had to lean in close to shout to Calhoun; the soldier’s eyes were narrowed against the wind, snow catching in her hair and on her lashes. “The horses!” she shouted, not daring to let the wind die down. “Where are they?”

“This way!” Calhoun replied, and they ran again, with Calhoun leading the way this time. Elsa could hear shouting; it sounded distant but she knew that it was dangerously close, the wind playing tricks on their ears. The torches outside the stable were blown out, and the building appeared out of nowhere, a Corona guard slumped dead at each side of the door. For a moment, Elsa almost slowed, but Calhoun pulled her onwards and took hold of one of the rattling doors.

A rogue gust of wind almost tore it open beneath her hand, wood slamming against wood and knocking aside the dead guard. Horses screamed in the darkness, hooves clattering against the floor, and a figure bolted out with a wild yell and a drawn sword. In a flash, Calhoun reacted, throwing Elsa aside and raising her sword to block the man’s thrust. She threw him backwards, let him lunge again, and this time bought up her forearm cleanly onto the bridge of his nose. His head snapped back, his legs crumpled, and he hit the floor hard.

Calhoun stood over him for an instant, sword at his throat, and gave him a kick. His body jerked, but he did not get up again, and she leant across to grab Elsa again and pull her into the shelter of the building.

The horses were in their stalls, most of them kicking and whinnying wildly. Calhoun pulled Elsa close, wrapping an arm around her for a moment. “Can you ride bareback?” she said, Elsa leaning in to try to catch the words.

Elsa shook her head rather than shout back. She had barely been able to ride at all at the time of her coronation. Calhoun frowned, then gestured for Elsa to stay still and strode off down the line of horses. One of the stall doors slammed open, but Elsa could see torches outside the building. She drew down the air harder, made it colder, until the world outside was little more than a blur and she _felt_ the fires flicker out beneath the magic of her touch.

“Calhoun!” she called. A crossbow bolt flew into the room, and Elsa would not have managed to dodge. It struck the wall behind her, and she gave a muted scream and almost fell backwards.

Calhoun’s strong arms caught her. Another crossbow cut through the air to their other side, and even Calhoun flinched.

“Bastards,” she snarled. She tugged on the horse beside her – it had only a hackamore over its nose and a blanket slung over its back – and pulled Elsa behind it. “Hold still.”

She bent down, gripped the hem of Elsa’s nightgown in her hands, and ripped sharply. The fine fabric tore all the way up Elsa’s thigh, and she went to grab at the tear automatically. Then Calhoun was lifting her onto the horse, and she scrambled to sit astride, clutching at its mane. Elsa felt Calhoun slide up behind her, arms going around her waist, and felt the tense of her thighs as she urged the horse forwards.

“Hold on,” said Calhoun in her ear. “This could get ugly.”

There was no saddle to grip, no pommel to wrap her hands around, and Elsa found herself wrapping one hand around Calhoun’s arm and pressing back into her body just to stay in place. Calhoun must have picked the calmest of the horses, but she could still feel that it was nervous, and had to let the snow fade away and the winds die down as they picked up speed, fast, already faster than a walk as they reached the door.

Three men in Weselton armour stood at the edge of the bridge. One of them shouted as Elsa and Calhoun burst out on their stolen horse, and the others raised and levelled their crossbows.

Elsa’s hand shot out, and a wall of jagged ice surged up between them. Then they hit the road at a canter, the snow petering out beneath their feet, and within moments the bridge was far behind them.

 

 

The sun rose as they continued north-east. They rode the horse as hard as it could bear with two riders and the slowly increasing light, keeping to the centre of the road where it was best-kept. There were few other travellers at this time of day, most of whom got out of the way early or jumped aside with curses, and Elsa did not want to wait long enough to see if any of them recognised the Queen of Arendelle, wearing a torn nightgown and riding with one of her guards.

The last few weeks had been at a walk, and as they hit a gallop it seemed to jar her bones, though Calhoun’s firm weight against her back helped her to stay in place when her legs felt like she could take no more. As they neared the Eiken household, she could hear calls from the gates, but looking back over Calhoun’s shoulder could see no horses following them.

“I think we’re clear,” she said as they slowed, gently trotting up to the gates. Despite everything, her voice did not shake.

“I’ll be more glad once we’re behind walls,” said Calhoun between gritted teeth.

Two of Eiken’s men, wearing black tunics with one sleeve Arendelle-green and one sleeve Bheltjian-silver, stood waiting at the gates. The one closer to them looked more closely, frowning, then jumped back with wide eyes. “Your Majesty!”

Calhoun climbed down from the horse, and Elsa did her best to dismount gracefully but was relieved to feel hands reach up to help. “Don’t bother, don’t _bother_ ,” she said to the guards, waving for them to stand upright. “Get up! Get Lord Eiken! Ready your men!”

“Your Majesty, what-” one of them started to say, but the other one was already hauling open the gates for them to enter. The shoes of ice on Elsa’s feet had evaporated away when she had not needed them, and now the ground felt rough as she stumbled on unsteady legs.

“The Duke of Weselton,” said Calhoun as they hurried in, one arm supporting Elsa and the other leading the horse. “There was an ambush at Lord Bilas’s house, in Corona. Weselton was behind it.”

“We’ve got carrier pigeons,” said one of the guards. His colleague, spear left behind, was running in the direction of the house, but Elsa could already see figures appearing. Finally, she felt relief rushing through her. “We’ll be in touch with Arendelle in no time, we can-”

“No!” The guard looked taken aback at Elsa’s yelp. “You can’t let my sister know about this.” The look of bewilderment on his face almost made her want to laugh. Or perhaps that was just hysteria, or the bottomless gratitude to Calhoun for getting them out alive at all. “Maybe my family just isn’t meant to travel,” she finished, shaking her head.

A boy hurried over to take the reins from Calhoun’s hands. Elsa had to hand it to the Coronans: they knew how to breed good horses. It looked tired, sweaty, but not foaming or unsteady on its feet. As they reached the first of the stone benches that lined the path, Calhoun dropped heavily onto it, almost pulling Elsa down with her.

Elsa turned, taking both of Calhoun’s hands in hers, and ran one thumb over the sore, red knuckles of Calhoun’s left hand. “Thank you,” she said. “You really did well out there.”

Calhoun looked up from under sweat-dampened bangs. “As did you, Your Majesty.”

This time, there was nothing stilted about the title – if anything, it was a little playful on the soldier’s tongue. Elsa gave her a warm smile, then paused to accept the cloak offered to her by one of the guards. It might have been more for others’ benefit than hers, while she was barefoot and with her thighs visible, but she appreciated the thought.

“I wrote to Arcadia some weeks back,” continued Elsa. She thought she felt Calhoun flinch just slightly. “Mostly to inform them how well their Sergeant Calhoun had done. They replied that Sergeant Calhoun was an excellent soldier...” her voice fell. “Who died in combat protecting Queen Vanellope.”

Calhoun looked up. Her eyes were wide now, frightened, and she went to pull her hands away but Elsa kept tight hold.

“Who was he? Brother? Father?”

“My fiancé.” The word was little more than a whisper, and Calhoun did not look away for an instant. “Brad. Why...” she shook her head slightly, fear still shining through. “You still bought me here.”

“You were a good guard, even if I didn’t know your real name.”

“Jene. Tamora Jene.”

“And, Tamora Jene, I owe you my life.”

She watched as the fear flickered to astonishment to wonder in Calhoun’s eyes, and then the woman surged to her feet again and wrapped her arms tightly around Elsa. Elsa gave a gasp of shock, but held her back, and for a moment all that had happened that night was gone with a pair of arms around her and a cheek pressed against her cheek.

Calhoun – well, Elsa supposed that it should be just Tamora now – drew back a little. “I’d heard that you were like no ruler in the world,” she said. “But I did not believe it to extend to this.”

“I’d rather believe in what people _do_ than what others say of them,” replied Elsa, and from the look in Tamora’s eyes she suspected that her meaning was perfectly clear. Then in the distance, she heard running footsteps and shouting, and turned to see Lord Eiken running down the gravel path towards them. Elsa had only met him once, many years before, but his bushy red beard and broad shoulders remained the same. She smiled, but kept hold of Tamora’s hand.

 

 

In the end, Eiken sent a message only to Corona, and offered his own local men in protection while Elsa was within his walls. Tamora did not leave her side, and when men Corona rode up to the gates to announce that Weselton had been arrested, they were forced to do so from the other side of the bars. Only then did Elsa get her way and have the gates opened so that she could thank the leader, Eugene Fitzherbert himself, for delivering the message.

Most of her men had not been killed, simply given drugged wine, but Elsa insisted that Weselton be charged with the murders of her men and the Coronan guards at the bridge, as well as her attempted murder. “For they are the ones who are dead,” she said to the man’s face, stern to his cowardice as he trembled in his manacles. “And I live still. Your crime against them is greater than that against me.”

The King and Queen of Corona offered use of one of their ships for passage back to Arendelle, and Elsa hesitated but accepted. “I can’t imagine that the sea is any more dangerous than the land,” she said dryly, and Tamora couldn’t hold back a smile.

When she got back to Arendelle she held Anna very tightly, and only then – in person, able to show that she had not been harmed – did she tell the whole story of what had happened.

As for Tamora, she held her hand on the voyage for strength and kissed her lips when they were home for no real reason at all, save the fluttering in her heart. To which Tamora smirked and cupped one hand gently beneath Elsa’s chin.

“Is that all you got?” she whispered.

Elsa wrapped her arms around Calhoun’s neck. “Not at all.”


End file.
